


Glass Bottles

by GenericUserHere



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Honestly help me, How Do I Tag, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 15:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19008871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenericUserHere/pseuds/GenericUserHere
Summary: Things I wrote for my creative writing class that I actually like





	Glass Bottles

     There’d been a lot of rules for this new home when I arrived. I’d been here for 3 days and so far, I’d managed to not break any of them, which had to be a new record for me. Really, it was a shame that was going to change now. I snuck down the stairs and across the dark hardwood floor of their dining room, coming to a stop in front of the glass-front cabinet, moonlight glinting off the bottles of Patrón and Absolut at the front of the cabinet. I opened the unlocked cabinet, and grabbed the nearly-full bottle of tequila, sitting back against the wall, knowing I’d get caught whether stayed in the room or not, I uncapped it and took a gulp, barely wincing at the strong burn it brought. A laugh burst out of me, forcing its way out, sounding hysterical. I took another gulp and heard the wood floor creaking upstairs. I didn’t bother to even try to cover up what I’d been doing, just took another gulp and let the tears gathering in my eyes fall, my eyes burning to match the burn in my throat. The creaking quieted down, and I blinked, wondering if I could be so lucky.

    Now that the tears had been granted permission to fall, they didn’t seem inclined to stop anytime soon, and in just a few minutes I was hunched over myself trying to sob quietly. These new people seemed nice, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be here; I wanted my mom. I wanted to be back in our tiny apartment, walking everywhere because she was working until late nearly every night. It wasn’t fair that I was here, instead of with her. It wasn’t fair that she was dead. I guess at some point my sobs grew louder despite my efforts, because now the other kid in the house, Maria, was prying the bottle from my hands and shushing me, putting it back in the cabinet behind some other bottles, and guiding me to sit up straighter. I found it was easier to breathe when I wasn’t hunched over, I was handed a box of tissues and led back to my new bed, shushing me and staying until I fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo pls gimme feedback I swear I'll respond, or not if you don't want me to I guess just lemme know what you thought


End file.
